


A bard's sacrifice

by ErikTheShed



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bromance to Romance, Dandelion, Friendship, Geralt of Rivia - Freeform, Love, M/M, The Witcher - Freeform, jaskier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22830685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErikTheShed/pseuds/ErikTheShed
Summary: Friend of mine drew an amazing picture of these two characters and it inspired me to write a little something about them in that piece of art she had made. So this is to her.Hope everyone else also enjoys this as it is my first ever fanfiction.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	A bard's sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ActualBisexualTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualBisexualTrash/gifts).



The drunkard threw a bottle at Jaskier “Shut your face bard! We don’t want to hear your squaking while we’re trying to enjoy our beers!” said the bald man, clearly already having enjoyed more than just a beer.  
Jaskier scoffed and straightened himself, having shielded his elven lute from the thrown bottle “Ignorant fool, simpletons just have no appreciation for the arts.”  
Jaskier and Geralt had traveled for a while and had managed to rent a single room at an inn, if it hadn’t been for the lesser leshen Geralt had taken down they would be going quite hungry. Jaskier however was managing to earn a coin here and there each night they stayed, despite some of the drunks not appreciating his tunes there were those whom did.  
“It’s no use Jaskier, they are too drunk to hear your blustered ballads at this hour, you’re better off just having a drink yourself.” Geralt grunted from where he sat not far from the stage Jaskier had stood upon for the past few hours singing and speaking of the adventures of Geralt and himself.  
What else could the bard do but slump down looking gloomy, a well shaped barmaid came over and offered Jaskier a mug of beer and gave him a mischievous smile “I quite liked your performance good sir, I do so hope I catch another and soon.” she curtsied, giving Jaskier a good view down her dress before she sauntered off swaying her hips more than should be necessary.  
“Well I guess the night isn’t quite lost yet, eh, Geralt?” he smirked and glanced over to the witcher, whom only responded with a grunt.  
The witcher had not been in a great mood, they were slowly draining their funds and he hadn’t had a job in too long and he was feeling frustrated. His job was usually a good way of working out his personal frustrations but since the leshen there had not been much in a way of work for him. Though Jaskier was his friend, he couldn’t help but feel a bother having been taking his money for so long. They usually shared expenses when traveling together, but his leshen payment was already long gone.  
“I think I’ll head out for a walk Jaskier, the cool air will be good for me as I am on the verge of overheating.” said Geralt and got up “Be sure to behave yourself, poet, we don’t want to be thrown out on our asses just yet.” he grunted before Jaskier could give much of a response, but the bard simply waved him off and headed in the direction of the curvaceous barmaid.

The air outside was indeed cool, and each deep breath seemed to slowly dampen the witchers sour mood, to some degree at least. He walked in the direction of the forest, not wanting the nice brisk air to be soiled by the stench of piss and vomit from the drunkards leaving the inn in a stooper.  
“I need to get some work soon or I am going to end up punching the first person who speaks out of line against me.” he told himself and took another deep breath, filling his lungs with the soothing coolness.  
“Oi! You!” said a harsh voice behind him and Geralt knew there were more than just one man approaching. The smell of alcohol followed them, but not as strong a scent as one might hope for when you assume a fight is about to happen.  
“What can I help you gentlemen with this evening?” Geralt asked him, without a friendly smile however.  
“You’re him, aren’t you? Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf. Famed by that prancing bards balads, ey?” the one in front spoke, his question not seeming to actually want an answer, so Geralt did not reply.  
“Hey! The man asked you a question, freak! Are you deaf as you are ugly?” a second man spoke.  
Geralt’s mutated eyes could easily spot them all even in the dark of midnight, seven men would usually not be a problem, if he had had his sword. Cursing himself for ever going anywhere without it, as it always seemed to harbor trouble when he left it behind.  
“I am he.” Geralt responded tursly.  
“Well then, that settles it don’t it. To slay a man as famous as you would make me more so famous wouldn’t it!” the ringleader spoke loudly while gesturing to the men surrounding him, which were also slowly fanning out in a semicircle around Geralt.  
“Gentlemen, I strongly advise against any foolish actions tonight. I promise you won’t come out ahead, especially since you’ve caught me in a foul mood.” the witcher snarled at them, not moving an inch and staring down the front man, his yellow eyes gleaming in the dark.  
“Hear that fellas? I think he’s scared, making empty threats!” another man said and they all laughed.  
They were armed with sticks and knives, half of them were at least somewhat affected by alcohol and no one had swords. Geralt glanced around and widened his stance. His fists clenched hard enough for his knuckles to pop.  
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you idiots.”

Jaskier stumbled out of the inn in a hurry “I’m sorry mate, how was I supposed to kno’ the lass was yer wife!” he said in quite a mock accent. A drunk man, blindingly so, came stumbling out after him “What’s your name you scoundrel? I’ll have you hanged for this you shit! That’s my wife you were groping!”  
Jaskier sighed and rolled his eyes “Me name is...Regis, I will be headin’ out of toon forevah now.” he said and hurried along away from the stoopified man. The man would not remember how Jaskier looked, nor would he ever recognize the accent Jaskier had used, horrid though it was.  
“Phew, well that could have gone worse I suppose. To be fair that maiden did come on to me first, and no wonder if she has to put up with that slob of a man.” he shuddered and headed towards the edge of the forest. He knew Geralt liked to get away from the foul smells when he wanted to cool down.  
Rounding a corner he spotted him, but it was not the sight he had expected however. Geralt was surrounded by bodies and was panting quite hard.  
Jaskier ran up to Geralt, his elven lute hanging from his back, jostling up and down during his sprint.  
“Geralt?! What happened? My goodness are they dead!?”  
“No you idiot….” Geralt was out of breath and looked bruised but not really hurt except a cut over his brow.  
“Well we best get out of here before someone sees us, we could get arrested for something like this. Ouch, looks like you got a bit of a beating yourself my friend, are you alright?” Jaskier ventured while looking Geralt over once and twice.  
“I’m fine Jaskier, but you’re right, we should get going. To the room.” the witcher replied and took a step and almost fell.  
Two of the men on the floor climbed back up to their feet “You son of a whore….we’ll kill you.”  
Jaskier shrieked and turned to face the two, from the looks of them they had been taken down by a blow to their faces, meaning they could be at best about to drop back down, but at worst still in fighting condition.  
“I suggest you head back to your homes good sirs, this night was not yours.” Jaskier said, trying his best to sound confident and even authoritative.  
“Shut your mouth bard, you’ll be next!” said one of them.  
Jaskier gulped, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder, slowly pulling him back.  
“It’s alright Jaskier, I can handle two more thugs.” Geralt said reassuringly and walked towards the two.  
Jaskier grabbed his lute and held on to it like a security blanket, keeping it safe in his arms.  
“Give them a thrashing they won’t forget Geralt.” he said, his voice almost not shaking after hearing their threat, not to mention still considering Geralt’s current condition.  
One of the men charged at Geralt, trying to tackle him down at the waist. The witcher was faster however and used the man’s own momentum and low center to simply push him down, forcing the man to land face first in the dirt, giving him a kick in the head for good measure. He should have spared him that kick however, Geralt’s knee protested hard as an old injury came to life and set him off balance and the other man managed to flank him and punch Geralt in the jaw sending him to the floor.  
“Geralt!” Jaskier shouted.  
Geralt pushed himself up to a seated position and looked up just in time to see the steel of a dagger swinging to slice his face, or possibly his throat, but he only heard the creaking of wood.  
The wooden creaking was followed by a small crunch “You damn whoreson! I’ll kill you both!” a stranger’s voice said before a crash sounds. Geralt blinks his eyes to regain his focus and sees Jaskier standing over the man who had shouted, the one who had held the dagger.  
“Jaskier? What….what happened?” Geralt asked and slowly managed to get to his feet.  
“Don’t worry about that now, let’s get you inside and on a bed before you bleed all over the place. Here, hold this to your head.” Jaskier ordered and he tore his sleeve and held it against Geralt’s bleeding head “We don’t need to leave a trail for people to follow. Come on, let’s hurry, I don’t want to stay here any longer.” he said, and again with a bit of authority in his voice.  
Geralt didn’t argue.

By the time they got to the room Geralt had managed to regain his thoughts more and the bleeding on his head had more or less stopped, though soaking Jaskier’s torn sleeve.  
“Now can you tell me what happened?” Geralt asked as he slumped down on the bed he had been sleeping on the past few days.  
Jaskier seemed to finally be calming himself, the rush of adrenaline having had him panting and mumbling nonstop as they made the walk back to the room while supporting Geralt’s weight.  
“Well he was about to stab you so I jumped in.” he said a bit out of breath, but slowly catching it. “I...you were….” he sighed and swung his lute around. It was destroyed.  
The lute the elves at the end of the world had gifted him, was no more, and the pain in Jaskier’s eyes was overwhelming.  
Geralt’s eyes went wide and he looked at the broken bits and pieces attached to the strings and strap of the lute. The neck was still mostly in one piece, but the strings were snapped and the body was smashed in completely.  
“I had to do something Geralt, he was going to kill you. Really kill you and….I couldn’t let that happen.” Jaskier leaned his head back and suppressed a sob, sniffling and taking a breath before looking at Geralt.  
“It was just an instrument, I can find another.” he said, but his voice was cracking.  
“Jaskier…” Geralt said softly “That lute was, one of a kind, it was everything to you.”  
Jaskier chuckled sadly and nodded “Yes, it was….I treasured it more than anything.” he said letting his tears fall then. His eyes met Geralt’s and he smiled “More than anything, except you Geralt. I would not let him kill you, I could not let that happen. You will always mean more to me than this lute ever did. I love you damn it, Geralt.” Jaskier spoke with pride in every word, but his tears kept on trickling down his cheeks, and his fingers were gripping the neck of his lute’s remains tightly.  
Geralt was on his feet and embracing Jaskier before he had managed to blink away a new wave of tears and was left in half shock once more. Geralt did not hug, or at the very least not often. Geralt held Jaskier firm in his strong arms, pressing their bodies together and the bard dropped the lute to the floor and slowly wrapped his arms around Geralt in return.  
“I love you too, you damned fool of a bard.” Geralt whispered close to his ear.  
“Whatever you want in return for the sacrifice you’ve made tonight, it’s yours.”  
Jaskier sobbed a bit but nodded against Geralt’s shoulder, though not seeming to want to let go.  
Geralt loosened his hold on the bard and moved over to the bed. Taking half a step away from the bard and slid his hands down to the edge of his shirt and started to carefully pull it up. Jaskier let go of Geralt and let his shirt slide up and over his head, it had some spots of blood and dirt on it. The witcher slid off his own shirt next and they shared in each others warmth, skin against skin. Geralt moved Jaskier around and pulled the bard’s back against his own chest, his hands sliding around Jaskier’s waist and up to his chest, caressing his soft skin.  
“Geralt, I’d never thought….that you would be…” a hand slid up and held Jaskier’s throat and the witcher growled softly in his ear.  
“Don’t talk, no words.” Geralt said, and his words were followed by a kiss against Jaskier’s neck.  
Jaskier was so surprised that Geralt was the one to initiate this, he had fantasized about this for some time but not wanting to make things weird or perhaps rather not wanting Geralt to shout him out or mock him for thinking he was joking about.  
The bard leaned his head back against Geralt’s shoulder and lifted a hand to run his fingers through that snow white hair, it was like silk against his skin.  
He turned around and faced the yellow eyes, looking up above them and seeing him still having some blood on his face. He took the witcher’s hand and lead him over to the tub that he had filled with water earlier that night but had forgotten to use. The water was not too warm any more if at all.  
Geralt was guided into the tub alongside Jaskier who sat down first and had Geralt sit with his back against his chest this time.  
Jaskier grabbed the washcloth and soaked it in the cool water and started to wash some of the blood and dirt off of Geralt’s chest, his thumb tracing each of the witcher’s collection of scars, and it was quite a collection to behold. Jaskier had often imagined what it would feel like to touch them, if they’d feel rough, but they were smooth and ever so slightly swelling out from his skin or sometimes making a groove in it. He worked his way up the muscled chest and bumped against the witcher’s medallion, he let it rest against Geralt’s collarbone while Jaskier washed him slowly and gently.  
Geralt was resting his head against Jaskier with his eyes closed. Though he had initiated something by the bed, he was a little glad they hadn’t ended up in the bed, at least not yet. His head was throbbing, likely from the blow to his head and possibly even had a concussion.  
The bard's soft and diligent hands cleaned the dirt from his body and the blood from his brow and hair.  
“I don’t think you should strain yourself tonight Geralt, how about we just relax. You might be more hurt than you look.” Jaskier whispered to his dear friend resting against him in the tub.  
Geralt only grunted, but in a softer way than he normally does when acknowledging something.  
Sitting in the tub, both men nude and slowly heating the water, cleaning the wounded witcher.  
After a while Jaskier had to pat Geralt on the shoulder to wake him, he had fallen asleep against Jaskier and from the wrinkling on his hands he guessed they had stayed like that for a while.  
Jaskier gestured to the bed and Geralt nodded.  
They got out of the tub, but when Geralt reached for his clothes Jaskier intercepted his hand and took it. He pulled Geralt along to the bed and they both got under the covers, in the same bed and sharing the blanket. Jaskier pushed himself back against Geralt, feeling the witcher’s strong and muscled body against his own smaller frame. The witcher in turn wrapped his body around the bard, sharing in each others warmth again and melting into each other.  
Jaskier could do nothing but smile and feel content, his dreams were coming true, and from the look he stole from Geralt he would have to say that the witcher was fulfilling fantasies of his own. That line of thought was only confirmed when he felt something firm prod against his rear. Cursing the witchers ability to not let the cold water bother him, not to mention the fact that the witcher had a concussion. He leaned his head back to whisper to Geralt  
“Tomorrow, I’ll be voicing what I want from you in return. Though I’d say you’re halfway giving it to me already.” the bard teased and pressed his rear end against said want.  
The witcher growled.  
The bard snickered.


End file.
